


Dress Me Like I’m Dead

by riverofyou



Category: Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, Paramore, The Academy Is...
Genre: Alternate Universe - A Little Less Sixteen Candles (Music Video), Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Blood Drinking, Friends to Lovers, Hypnotism, M/M, Smut, Vampire Bites, Vampires, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-06-29 11:35:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15728601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverofyou/pseuds/riverofyou
Summary: You all know the typical vampire romance. The 'love'. The self-loathing. The creepiness. The questionable morals.I can assure you, this is nothing like that. If you're looking for teens sparkling in the sun and sappy romance, this is not for you.Why? Well, because Ryan Ross doesn't love. He hunts. He fights. He makes jokes that often fall flat. He fucks, occasionally, but never loves.Until Brendon Urie enters his life, and then everything Ryan knows descends into pure chaos.Dress Me Like I'm Dead is a story about friendship, conflict, and the blurred lines between love and lust. And of course, sex. There's plenty of that.//Slightly inspired by the A Little Less 16 Candles music video. Slightly.//





	1. 1

Sex with Brendon would make even the most stoic of men break out into a grin. That was the thing about Brendon. He made everything feel warm, personable, happy. He even made Ryan melt for him.

Brendon made everything better.

Normally.

But right now, as he moans softly beneath Ryan, laying still and not even contributing, he just looks blank. Empty.

And Ryan knows that it's his fault.

God, how did it end up like this?

***

**_FOUR MONTHS PRIOR..._ **

They don't tell you that everlasting life is a fucking chore. 

Sure, when you're weak and feeble and... human, bleeding out in an alleyway, and a handsome man tells you that you can live forever, be like him, it seems really fucking cool. It seems like a great opportunity! Everlasting life?! Good looks?! Supernatural power?! Awesome. 

But that was eighty years ago. And, well, after about twenty years, the absolute rush of being powerful and immortal wears off. And then your conscience catches up to you, and you stop killing people because you feel bad, and you leave your clan that was more like a cult, and you buy a bunch of houses around the world because _ shit _ , you've got that kind of money, and then you pick up a lot of fucking useless hobbies because, well, you've also got time. Ryan can play sixteen different instruments, he can speak German fluently, and he also is an excellent gamer. Him and Jon sometimes will play for days on end, not even noticing the sun rising and falling. Jon thinks it's an addiction. Whenever he says that, Ryan simply rolls his eyes, although it very well could be true. Can vampires become addicted?

Jesus Christ. 

He's a vampire addicted to gaming. 

That's kind of, really, totally lame.

Sometimes, Ryan wonders if he did die in that alley, and this is Hell. Is this his eternal punishment? If so, what did he do to deserve it?

Ryan's been in the same dead-end town for almost 100 years, considering he's been a vampire for 80, and was 19 when he died. People come. They go. Ryan stays, along with Jon. His old clan is still around too, hiding in the shadows, and he knows other vampires populate the town too, outsiders. The ones who refuse to join William. Ryan doesn't blame them. He hated the years he spent with William, and God, he hates William for turning him. Still, when they run into each other, they force smiles and recount old stories. There's no use starting fights. It would only lead to battle, and inevitably death. Still, tensions are running high between them, that much is obvious. 

Something is going to happen soon. Ryan doesn't know how, but he can feel it, like how animals hide before a storm. He isn't that different from an animal, really. They both have fangs. They both have questionable hygiene, (he hasn't gotten laid in a while, okay?!) and they both have very good instincts.

Ryan sighs, standing and biting his nails. The clock reads 10 PM. Is that too early to go and hunt? 

"Is 10 too early to go out?" He asks Jon, glancing over to his best friend, who is humming the Mario Brothers theme and reading a book. Ryan sighs, raising his voice, even though he knows Jon heard,  _ "Is 10 too early to go out?" _

Jon looks up, grinning. "Sorry, didn't hear you." He teases, and Ryan sighs, flipping him off. "10 is fine. Any later, and you're just going to get junkies. Not very yummy."

Ryan grunts in agreement, nodding as a sign of farewell before walking off. They aren't big on hellos or goodbyes. Why would you be, when you have no intentions of going anywhere? 

Ryan and Jon are stuck, like it or not. 

And Ryan definitely doesn't like it. 

***

New York City smells like piss. Piss, and pot. 

Ryan used to find the scent of marijuana appetizing, but now it just reminds him of his teenaged years. Marijuana is a hindrance, something that makes blood bitter and nearly undrinkable. 

Ryan hates the city. It’s big and noisy and dirty. But the town that they occupy is small, extremely so, and it wouldn’t do for the townsfolk to realize that the occupants are regularly being drank from, not at all, so they travel around. New York isn’t far at all, not really anyway. It’s a hop, skip, and a jump away for Ryan and Jon, at least, who, like the rest of their kind, are blessed with supernatural speed. 

However, the advantage of going into the city is that Ryan has a wide pick of prey.

Smiling, Ryan walks down the street, eyes flickering over people walking down the sidewalk. The world is his oyster. He’s always considered that an icky kind of saying. Even as a human he despised seafood. Why not simply ‘the world is his’? The world is his pearl? His diamond? There’s probably some reason for it, but Ryan is stubbornly stuck in his ignorance. Fuck ‘you learn something new every day’. He’ll learn when he needs to when he does. 

His stomach aches painfully, practically shrieking for nourishment, and Ryan knows that he needs to feed.

Otherwise, it’ll get ugly.

He’s about to prey on a tiny blonde girl walking alone, when suddenly, he hears a laugh, musical and lovely, accompanied by a rich, dark smell. Ryan doesn’t know how describe the scents and tastes of blood. It’s different from the flavors and scents of normal foods. When you’re a vampire, your tastebuds evolve to only taste blood, but they make the liquid addictive, delicious, fantastic, any sort of adjective you can imagine.

It’s so much better than any sort of food.

Some types of blood are light and tangy, some sweet and flavorful, others musty and strong. Jon prefers the stronger tastes. Ryan? Well, let’s just say that this scent is right up his alley. It calls to him, and Ryan knows that he must have whoever this is. Swallowing, he clenches his fists and turns, trying to control himself. He can feel those damned animal instincts kicking in, and he has to remember that  _ he’s in public _ .

The owner of the scent is beginning to walk away, and Ryan can’t have that, so he begins to speed-walk in the direction of the scent. As he catches up, he hears snatches of a conversation, and he focuses on the man’s voice. It’s soft and melodic, and Ryan internally cheers as he realizes that the man is alone, and just talking on the phone.

_ It just makes this that much easier. _

Ryan inhales, before walking quickly up to the man, tugging firmly at his sleeve. He feels wild now, more cocky, and he’s ready to pounce on the owner of this surprisingly voluptuous ass, if need be. The man stiffens and jumps, turning slowly and facing Ryan, eyes huge,  hesitant, and slightly fearful. Ryan resists the urge to smirk as the man looks him up and down, clearly sizing him up, anticipating a fight.  _ How cute. _

He thinks that he stands a chance. 

“One second, Spence. I’ll call you back…” He murmurs, looking like a deer in the headlights as he hangs up with “Spence’. His eyes are locked with Ryan’s, filled with terror. Predator versus Prey. Instinctually, this man, this  _ boy  _ knows that he’s being hunted.

And yet, he won’t look away. 

How… How very cute. How very stupid. 

The man swallows, jutting out his chin. “Can I help you?” He asks, and Ryan smiles earnestly. “Actually, you can.” He says, and the man blinks. “H-How?” He asks, looking unsure, and then Ryan intensifies his gaze. He can tell exactly when this man (again, more of a boy, really) loses himself, and simply falls into Ryan’s will. “Follow me.” Ryan says simply, and the man blankly nods, his hand slipping into Ryan’s without hesitation. Ryan blinks. Did he subconsciously command him to do that?

“What’s your name?” Ryan asks as he leads the man into an alley, looking him up and down. He’s simultaneously frail and sturdy: can’t be over 5’9, with a delicately beautiful face, but his body is equally curvy and sturdy. He looks like a perfect little plaything, but Ryan keeps his hands to himself. He’s a lot of things, but he’s not a rapist. 

“First or last?” The man questions, and Ryan rolls his eyes. “First. Or both. Doesn’t matter.” He says, shrugging. For a second, the boy looks a bit saddened by Ryan’s dismissive remarks, (strange, usually when a human starts to come out of it, they just look fearful) but then Ryan deepens the trance, and his face just goes blank. “Brendon. Urie. Brendon Urie.” He says, voice soft and monotoned, rivaling Ryan’s own flat voice. 

Ryan nods, satisfied. “Well. Brendon.” He says slowly, sinuously, gently stroking Brendon’s cheek. The man shudders gently and leans into the caress. “You’re going to make me very happy.” He says, smiling. Brendon’s eyebrows furrow, and he opens his mouth, probably to question the slightly sinister meaning behind that statement, but Ryan presses a finger to his full lips, and the boy obediently falls silent. 

_ He’s a pretty little thing,  _ Ryan thinks, looking him up and down, and Brendon blinks at him, long eyelashes fluttering oh-so-innocently. “Do I please you?” He asks, and Ryan stares. It’s normal for humans to want to obey vampires, when they’re tranced. They have no say in the matter. 

But asking if Ryan is  _ pleased?  _

That’s new territory. Ryan swallows, gazing at Brendon’s face. His lips look bee-stung, perfectly pink and pouty. Ryan longs to nip on the bottom one, to draw blood and lick it off, to make this pretty, docile boy shudder.

The look on Brendon’s face says he wouldn’t object to that treatment. Ryan silently wonders how tranced this boy really is.

“How old are you?” Ryan asks, and Brendon blinks, eyes still glazed over, but face slightly animated.

_ So he’s deep enough to comprehend, but still under the spell.  _

Interesting.

_ “ _ Twenty-Two.” Brendon says throatily, and Ryan nods. His  _ body  _ is younger, only nineteen. But of course, Ryan’s over a hundred now. That makes Brendon technically younger, but Ryan still counts him as younger mentally. 

_ Not a man, but a boy. _

Ryan wants to pin this  _ boy  _ against the wall of this shitty alley, and fucking ravish him, run his tongue along the flawless, smooth skin and taste the salt and sweat. God, he wants to find out what makes this beautiful boy tick. He’s honestly spellbinding, and if it weren’t for the intoxicating smell of blood radiating off of him and the healthy flush of his skin, Ryan wouldn’t be surprised to find out that this boy is a vampire himself. He’s definitely lovely enough to be one, and has the same velvet tones as one of Ryan’s kind.

“Brendon.” Ryan starts hesitantly, and the boy meets his eyes obediently, giving him a bashful look that makes Ryan’s (no longer beating) heart flutter. “Would you… perhaps… want to…?” Have sex?

_ He can’t consent. He’s hypnotized, you fucking moron. _

Ryan falls silent. Brendon tilts his head to the side, resembling a confused and adorable little puppy, and Ryan sighs, simply gazing into Brendon’s eyes once more, until the curiosity in Brendon’s eyes is once again replaced with an empty, docile gaze. He really needs to work on trancing people, making the dazes stronger, so prey can’t break free so easily. “Tilt your jaw upward.” Ryan breathes, and Brendon smiles dreamily, immediately responding. Ryan steps forward, eyes trailing over the creamy expanse of skin that is Brendon’s neck, sharp eyes easily locating a purplish vein. He feels bad about breaking the skin, even though he knows that Brendon will feel nothing but pleasure from the bite.

According to some of Ryan’s victims, the bite is just as pleasurable for them as the blood is for him. 

Still, he can’t help but swallow, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to the skin. He feels the blood inside of Brendon rushing through his veins, powering his tiny body and sustaining the fragile human life within. Most of Ryan’s kind finds humans weak, pretending that they were always vampires, always inhumane. Ryan sees them more as strong. They’re so easily breakable, and yet they go on anyway, risking death each and every day.

There’s something admirable about that. 

Slowly, Ryan bites down, a gentle nip at first that turns into a harsh bite as the thirst burning dully inside of him takes over.

It’s not the best blood Ryan’s ever had, but goddamn, it sure is fantastic, and Ryan finds himself greedily suckling, pulling Brendon’s warm body closer. The boy, for his part, is pliant, occasionally uttering soft mewls and moans, hands twitching feebly. When the warmth of Brendon’s body starts to ebb into cold, Ryan pulls away, inhaling his scent once more. 

_ Utterly intoxicating. _

Brendon’s eyes are more glazed now, and Ryan quickly realizes that he drank too much. The boy is slumping forward slightly, and Ryan sighs, simply helping Brendon sink to the ground and pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. “You did well, lovely.” He murmurs softly, and Brendon looks up, giving him a tiny smile. “Pleased to p-please.” He stammers meekly, but almost tauntingly, in a way, and Ryan blinks, swallowing. “Hush. Save your energy.” He says, and Brendon nods groggily, looking down. 

_ Now what? _

Perhaps the reason that Ryan and Jon never say goodbye is because Ryan is too awkward, can’t ever end things or form words properly, can’t look back without feeling some form of shame and regret. When he left William’s clan, he never truly said goodbye, just packed his things and left. 

Ryan Ross doesn’t look back. He just leaves. 

Brendon gazes up at him glassily, a dazed smile on his beautiful face, and Ryan simply doesn’t know how to say goodbye, doesn’t know how to thank this strange, strange creature named Brendon Urie. So, he doesn’t, instead crouching down and patting Brendon’s cheek, gently instructing him to sleep. Once the boy’s brown eyes flutter shut, Ryan feels a deep sense of regret. He isn’t sure why.

They’re pretty eyes really, the color of bitter dark chocolate, the kind his mother used to bring back home from the market to bake with. Ryan still remembers the taste, strong and unforgettable, decades later. 

Ryan knows that he’ll remember those eyes, too, perhaps even decades later.

Sighing, he turns, heading home to an empty bed in an empty house in an empty town.

And Ryan? Well, Ryan feels pretty fucking empty, too. 

***

Ryan doesn’t go back for seconds. It’s sloppy, risky, and never as good as the first time. Why risk exposing his secret, exposing vampirekind’s secret, for something you’ve already tried before?

_ Vampirekind isn’t a word _ , Ryan thinks,  _ but it should be. _

So when Ryan is in the city, weeks later, walking down the same damn street he met Brendon Urie on, and he smells the boy again, the beautiful fucking boy, Ryan doesn’t turn, doesn’t outwardly react. 

That is, until he feels warm fingers curl around his wrist, and his eyes meet a very familiar, very pretty face, outfitted with bitter chocolate eyes and beestung lips. 

_ “You.” _ Brendon breathes, eyes wide and excited, cheeks flushed. “I’ve been looking for you!”

And that’s when Ryan knows that he’s in a world of trouble. 

 

 

 

 


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't my best, it was more for all of you to get a feel for Brendon's life, personality, and past. It'll be more eventful and while the fic may or may not have multiple point of views, it WILL be Ryan-centric and there will be plenty of vampire-y smut.

When Brendon was a young child, he found a dead body.

No warning, none at all. His mother, bless her soul, had taken him to the park on an early Saturday Morning in an attempt to calm his hyper, frantic body down. Dew had clung to the grass, soaking through the thick denim of his jeans, freezing cold and annoying, and crickets had chirped merrily.

Brendon hasn't been a fan of crickets since.

His mother had clutched a thermos of coffee in between her manicured hands, and she had sat on a bench, watching Brendon toddle around the park as she knuckled sleep out of her eyes, dark brown and identical to Brendon's.

He had climbed into the covered slide, giggling as he scooted down, the friction preventing him from truly sliding, when he bumped into someone. Frowning, Brendon stared, squinting in the faint light. Why was there a lady sleeping in the slide?

Hesitantly, he poked her. "Ma'am?" He had asked. Predictably, she didn't move, although tiny Brendon didn't know why that was. He just knew that she smelled a little funny, and that he had to wait his turn for the slide. His Momma had always lectured him on that, because Brendon could be 'a little pushy' sometimes, and he didn't want to get in trouble. So, sighing, he turned around, climbing up with difficulty. Thankfully, his trusty red rubber boots had good traction on them, and after a moment or so of struggling, he pulled himself out of the slide.

"Momma! There's a lady sleeping in the slide!" He called, and Mrs. Urie had rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Brenbear, I don't feel like playing pretend right now! Can you please just play nicely for a bit, give Momma some time to wake up...?"

Five year old Brendon hadn't been particularly patient, and he had stomped his tiny foot, climbing off of the play structure and up to his careworn mother. "I'm not playin'! There's a lady, she's just sleepin' and she won't wake up, and that isn't fair!"

Sighing, Mrs. Urie had stood, leaving the thermos of coffee on the bench and walking over to the slide, peering inside.

And then she screamed.

Brendon had watched in a haze of confusion as an ambulance came, as well as several police officers. In the frenzy of questions and people, Brendon had witnessed when the police removed the woman from the slide. She was perfectly still, with almost translucent skin, and when they moved the body, she  _smelled._

It had apparently been an overdose, although his mother had put it in nicer terms. 

Young Brendon had vowed to stay away from dead things, and from drugs. Nothing good came from it. Nothing at all.

Older Brendon, though? Well, that's a different story.

***

Brendon doesn't remember much about  _that_ night. Just him. Tall and elegant, with eyes like the old, aged bottles of whiskey that his father had kept in the cabinets of their home, despite not being allowed to indulge in alcohol, because of the religion.

Forbidden.

Much like him.

That night was a blur, but he knows what the man is. Was. He pinned Brendon to a wall, whispered commands and... well, he drank from Brendon, and Brendon took it, he took it and he loved it.

He loved the rush of the bite, that  _ohsopainfulpleasure,_ and he loved the aftermath; the headrush and the sinking to the ground.

When Brendon woke, he had thought that he was crazy. Crazy, or perhaps just dreaming.

But dreams didn't leave bite marks.

The marks turned into a scar, one Brendon absently rubs sometimes now.

A scar from a dead man. A  _vampire._

Brendon vowed to never toy with dead things, and yet here he was, fascinated by the whole ordeal, and craving... more. Was he suicidal? No. Insane? No. Stupid?  _Maybe._

And so, he begins to frequent the bar that he was at that night, when he isn't hanging out with his roommate Spencer or working, perhaps on purpose, but perhaps it's more instinctual than that. He doesn't just visit (stalk) the area he met the man in, he does research, too. At first, he simply types 'vampire' into the search engine, but quickly realizes that all that will bring up is cheesy clipart and dictionary definitions. So, he gets a bit more specific in his searches, and what he finds is... interesting. Testimonies from people about encounters that are eerily similar to Brendon's experience. Drawings and digital re-enactments that send chills up his spine, although none of the recreations are as hauntingly beautiful as  _he_  was. 

WikiHow advises him to carry garlic around when interacting with a vampire, and although it isn't a particularly factual website, Brendon still finds a shriveled old clove in the kitchen cabinet, and tucks it into his backpack. Just in case. From what he remembers, the man wasn't particularly aggressive, but, well, he took control of Brendon so easily. Brendon hates that he liked it, that he both craves and hates that loss of control. 

Some sites say that vampires are seductive and sensual. Some say that they're violent and dangerous. Brendon doesn't know what to believe, but he  _does_ know that Spencer thinks he has issues after checking the search history on their shared computer. The internet hasn't been very helpful anyway, so, after a particularly long and stressful shift at work, he just heads to the library instead. The old, ancient librarian has known him since he was a tiny boy, watching him grow from an adorable child to a gangly, acne-covered teenager, into what he is now. An adult.

Kind of. Brendon still considers himself a child, in some ways, even though he pays bills and drinks and does taxes. He waves to her, and she ends up calling him over, where they have a long conversation about new music books and CDs the library has purchased, and the ones that have become more damaged that Brendon read as a kid. They talk about Chopin vs. Beethoven for a while, and about Queen, a subject Brendon thoroughly enjoys, and before he knows it, the library is closing, and the woman apologetically asks him to leave. Sighing, Brendon shoves his hands into his pockets. It's his fault, really: he shouldn't have come so close to closing. 

He doesn't even notice when he walks down the same street, doesn't notice when he passes the alleyway. It's a bit out of the way, actually, but his feet are doing all the work. The rest of Brendon is just along for the ride, it seems. Sometimes he gets like this: his mind wanders when he's stressed or overtired, and he just seems to sink inside himself and fade away, for a while. It's a contrast to his normal, sunny personality, but he can't be happy all the time.

It's normal.

What  _isn't_  normal is the chills that go up and down his spine as his eyes land on the figure in front of him. He doesn't even see the face of the man, but he knows. The scar on his neck pulses, hot and throbbing, and Brendon _knows._

He walks up, lips parting as he grabs the mans wrist, walking in front of him, and yeah, he'd recognize those eyes anywhere. Beaming, he clears his throat. " _You,_ " He starts awkwardly, his voice high pitched and full of awe, "I've been looking for you!"

The man stares, swallowing, his whiskey colored eyes darting around, perhaps looking for eavesdroppers. There are none. Brendon's smile falters. He remembers this guy being a lot more... seductive. Now he just looks like a normal dude. Is it a trap? Hesitantly, Brendon reaches into his backpack, grabbing the garlic and brandishing it out in front of him, "I'm armed."

The man blinks, doubling over and sneezing. Brendon jumps, a startled giggle spilling from his lips.

"You little asshole!" He snaps, sneezing again. "What are you--" He starts, before sneezing yet again. His eyes are watery and red. Brendon blinks, flushing and stepping forward, waving it around awkwardly.

"The internet said it would make you weak..." Brendon says, and it sounds dumb now that he says it out loud. The man sighs loudly, sniffing. "No. It just gives me... I guess it's similar to an allergic reaction, moron. I sneeze. But I'm not controllable and I can still kick your ass or kill you." He says, voice hostile and icy, and yeah, Brendon sees how vampires are classified as  _dangerous_  now, and a shiver runs down his spine once again, although this one isn't pleasant. 

The man must see the fear in Brendon's eyes, because he unclenches his jaw. "I'm sorry." He mumbles. "I--that's not who I am. I won't hurt you. But how did you find me? Why were you looking? And for the love of God, toss that fucking garlic." 

Brendon blinks, shaking his head. "N-No." He says, jutting his chin out, and the man looks annoyed, sneezing softly. He sounds like a kitten, and Brendon smiles to himself. "Please?" He asks, clearing his throat. "I will force you, if you don't. I'm sure you can recall my capabilities." He says simply, and Brendon swallows, nodding and dropping the clove to the ground. He smiles. "Okay. Come on, then. Let's get away from that nasty thing." He says, tugging on Brendon's sleeve and yanking him into an alleyway like he weighs nothing.

Brendon kind of loves it. 

"This is the same one you... you know." Brendon says, looking around, and the man blinks slowly, once again reminding Brendon of a cat, coy and calculating. If he's a cat, Brendon is an eager puppy, chasing him around. "Didn't notice," Is all he says, and Brendon nods slowly. "To answer your previous questions," He starts, awkwardly scuffing his sneaker against the pavement, "This encounter was purely an accident. And I've been looking for you because... well, I know what you are."

The man doesn't look surprised. "So, what are you going to do? Go to the press? I could shut you up, you know." He says, and Brendon blinks. "S-Shut me up?"

"Yeah. I could kill you, or command you to not speak of it. Of me."

"You _could_. But you won't." Brendon says confidently, and the man blinks. "How are you so sure?"

"I just have a feeling. You don't seem like a murderer. You said you wouldn't hurt me, and plus, I would have let you do anything to me that night, and... you stopped." He says, and the man laughs. "You're confident. And also correct. So, if you don't want to expose me, what do you want? Trying to blackmail a vampire?" He asks, tone mocking, arching an eyebrow, and Brendon blinks. He doesn't know what he wants. _Why did he come here in the first place? Why did he search?_

"I don't want anything," Brendon starts, and the man looks relieved, opening his mouth to speak, but Brendon holds up a finger. He feels strangely in charge in this situation, and as he reflects on his actions, he does know why he came. "Let me finish. I don't want anything... except for you."


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, haven't uploaded in about two months now. I've been dealing with some mental heath stuff and personal shit so I've just been uploading pre-written shit. This chapter is more of a filler, but it'll get better soon. Promise.

_Where has Brendon Urie been all of Ryan’s immortal life?_

He knows the answer to that. He was growing up. Developing. Too young for Ryan, not that he was aware of Brendon’s existence.

But he’s an adult now, and he’s most certainly willing. Ryan looks down at the sleeping boy, smirking as he recalls the intense sex, the way that Brendon was so easily agreeable, but still had a sense of self, a teasing manner. He listened, but he didn’t take the sex so… seriously. Ryan was used to lovers trying to force passion or take the sex to an extreme. He isn’t used to teasing and warm caresses.

Swallowing, he pushes the covers up around the sleeping boy, staring down at him. In sleep, he looks angelic. There’s no taunting smirk on his face, just delicate features and dark hair on pale skin.

Standing, he dresses slowly, dimming the lights before walking downstairs. He’ll let Brendon sleep.

Sighing, he walks down the stairs, hearing the floorboards creak under his weight. Strangely enough, it’s comforting. Even though he isn’t alive, isn’t  _human,_ the floorboards still creak under his feet. He’s still a presence, something on this earth, even though he will never be like a normal human again.

“So. Who’d you bring home, you animal?” Jon asks, smirking and looking satisfied. “I came home when you were in the middle of… it. The entire goddamn house was shaking.” Ryan snorts quietly, shaking his head. “Some human.” He says, shrugging. “Think he might stick around for a while.”

_“Jon?” Ryan calls as they return to the house, swallowing as he senses the heat coming off of Brendon, can hear his shaky breaths._

_There’s no answer, and Ryan sighs. “Guess he’s not here.”_

_Brendon gives him a mildly curious room, looking around the room with a surveying glance. “You said he’s your roommate? Is he like you?”_

_Ryan smirks, pretending to not understand what Brendon means. “A homosexual? No, he’s straight, sorry.”_

Jon looks interested. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. You wanna play Call Of Duty?”

And so Ryan and Jon waste away their morning playing Black-Ops, exchanging bits of information between each other every so often.

“Dude, I saw Keltie today,” Jon says, sinking back into the couch. Huh. Ryan hasn’t seen Keltie in ages. Has it been twenty years? Probably more. “Are you sure it was her?”

“I don’t forget a face, bro. She had different hair and stuff, but it was definitely her. Damn, I haven’t seen her since--”

“Can we talk about something else?” Ryan requests, almost pleadingly, and Jon gives him a sympathetic glance, nodding. Ryan scowls. He hates sympathy, and he hates Keltie. What the fuck is she doing in town, anyway?

“So, what’s the deal with the guy you brought home? Usually you don’t bring them back…” Jon teases, meeting Ryan’s eyes. “Is he special?”

Ryan focuses on the screen, shooting an opponent and watching him fall to the ground. He likes video games. You can turn your mind off for a while, shoot shit, and when it gets to be too much, you can shut the game off or switch to a new one. It isn’t real, and perhaps that’s what Ryan likes the most about them.

“No, he’s not special. They’re not ever special.” He finally says, reloading his gun. Jon waits, as if expecting more, but Ryan has nothing more to say. He fucked that boy. He didn’t make love, and he certainly didn’t whisper sweet nothings in his ears. They weren’t surrounded by rose petals and it _wasn’t_  special, it wasn’t.

 _Although,_  Ryan thinks, _it did feel pretty awesome, and in the moment, Brendon certainly felt special._

But that was purely the heat of the moment. It was just… sex. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Is he cute? Did he taste good?” Jon asks, and Ryan snorts. “Why, wanna take a gander at him?” He asks, and Jon cackles. “Nah.” He says, and Ryan grins at him. At least he can always depend on Jon to stay the same. “This is boring. Let’s play something else.” He says, and Jon’s eyes light up.

“Can we play--” He starts, and Ryan shakes his head before he can finish. Jon rolls his eyes. “Asshole. I don’t understand why you won’t play Guitar Hero.”

“Because it’s fucking lame?” He says, standing and walking into the kitchen. “You play guitar. You have time to learn to learn the songs, because, uh,  _you’re fucking dead!_ ” He says, and Jon laughs, tossing his head back. “Well, will you watch South Park with me? I know you like it.”

Admittedly, Ryan does, although he doesn’t get all of the jokes. After a while, all of the celebrities and the political events sort of blur together. The only thing that always stands out is the music. For Ryan, it has always been crystal clear.

“Sure, I’ll watch it.” He says, walking over to the couch and settling down,

watching Jon fiddle with the DVDs absentmindedly. After a while, Jon finally figures out the DVD player and the episode starts. Ryan begins to genuinely enjoy himself, laughing loudly and gazing at the TV.

“I didn’t know that Vampires watched South Park.” A cheerful voice says, and Ryan rips his gaze away from the screen to see Brendon, who looks effortlessly handsome, dressed in sweats and a shirt that looks strangely familiar.

“Is that mine?” He asks slowly, and Brendon looks down, grinning. “Hey, yeah! My clothes were, uh, a bit soiled, so I grabbed some of yours. I hope that’s okay.” He says, and Ryan shrugs slightly, scooting over. “It’s whatever. Wanna watch?”

Brendon nods happily, walking over and curling up. Jon gives Ryan a strange look, and Ryan shrugs slightly, looking away. This is new to Ryan. He doesn’t watch South Park with pretty little things like Brendon, doesn’t cuddle them, and he most  _definitely_ never shares his clothing. And yet here he is.

“Hi, I’m Jon,” Jon announces after a few minutes of silently watching Cartman plot an evil scheme, and Brendon waves, laughing awkwardly. “I’m Brendon.”

Within minutes they’re laughing and talking and imitating the characters on the screen, and Ryan sighs as if he’s secretly annoyed, but really, he’s glad that they’re becoming fast friends.

Now he has an excuse to get Brendon back over here.

***

The ride home that Ryan gives Brendon is awkward, and he glances over at Brendon, who is staring off into space, seemingly thinking about something else.

“I want to do this again.” Ryan mumbles unthinkingly, and Brendon focuses on his face slowly, eyes widening. “Yeah?” He asks as Ryan pulls up to his apartment. Goddamn, the traffic is horrible in the city.

“If you’re okay with it. The sex was good.” He says, and Brendon gets an almost dreamy expression on his face, chuckling. “Yeah, it was. Sure, we can do this again. And again, and again.”

Ryan rolls his eyes at how cheesy this kid is, but he can’t help but smile. Somehow, he makes corny lines sound charming. “I’ll… stop by sometime, okay?”

Brendon snorts. “Or you could text me. What’s your number?”

Ryan gives him a pained expression. “I do not…  _text.”_

“Uh, okay? Then call me.”

Ryan sighs, “I don’t have a phone at all. Jon does, but I don’t know how to use it.” Brendon snorts incredulously. “How is that possible? You were watching South Park earlier and Jon was playing Xbox!”

“Yes, and it took me about a year to figure out how to properly play an Xbox. I haven’t gotten around to Cell Phones. There was a house phone, but Jon and I broke it playing indoor football and—” He says, and Brendon stops him, laughing. “Okay. Stop by, then. I work at the little Tropical Smoothie Hut in the Mall, by the Hot Topic. You probably shop there, right?”

Ryan glares, crossing his arms. “No. Hot Topic is for emos.  _Not_ Vampires.”

Brendon bursts into giggles, shaking his head. “Okay, then. Stop by the Hut. See you, My Dearest, Darlingest Vampire!” He calls, winking and shutting the door. Ryan stands there for a minute, trying to memorize the memory of Brendon’s smile, before he turns and walks back to his car. His head is a million miles away and his eyes are on the ground, so he doesn’t see the tall, sandy haired woman across the street smile coldly and turn to walk away.


End file.
